


The Night of the Fire

by winterune



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune
Summary: Do you remember the flames and the ashes? The heat from the burning buildings? The stench of blood and smoke?Cloud relives the night his mother died.
Relationships: Cloud Strife & Cloud Strife's Mother, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	The Night of the Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cloud's Mother Theory](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/564460) by Soldier_1stClass. 



> Inspired by Soldier_1stClass's theory about Cloud's mother. This is a bit rushed and poorly written but I really need to get this out of my system. If you've read a couple of my other fics, then you may notice that yes, I really want more content about Cloud and his mother. Because that is a very under-written piece of character arc that I wish will be more explored in the Remake.

_Do you remember the flames and the ashes? The heat from the burning buildings? The stench of blood and smoke?_

The sky bled red. The screams and the wails filled his senses. Cloud had run back to his town in haste only to freeze in horror when he witnessed the village drowning in a sea of fire. A little girl was crying. Houses were crumbling. The old man from the inn was carrying people out. Everything… Everyone…

_What happened?!_

An ear-splitting scream cut through the air. Cloud whipped his head up. It came from that house—that small house at the back of the village. _His_ house.

His mother.

Fear like he had never known before gripped his heart, and before he knew what he was doing, Cloud had kicked the dirt with his boots and rushed forward like mad, disregarding all the cries and pleas for help. Because his mother was alone in that house. His mother needed help. His mother—

“ _Mom!_ ” Cloud screamed, bursting through the front door of their house.

The smoke immediately suffocated him. His eyes burned from the ashes and fire coating every surface of the inner room and he shielded his eyes with an arm.

“ _Mom?_ ” Cloud shouted. He could hear the woods and planks creaking. He needed to get her out. He needed to get her out _now_ before the house caved in and trapped them inside.

He could see the silhouette of a person just up ahead, in the wide space between the kitchen, the dining room, and the bedroom. He almost sighed in relief, almost smiled, almost walked over and reached out to her—but a gurgling sound stopped him. And it was not just one, but two silhouettes that he saw, with the glint of a sharp tip of steel.

Cloud lowered his arm to see Sephiroth there, his mother hanging limp from the long blade stabbed through her stomach. A grimace and a wince and a grunt as her hands fumbled against the katana.

“Mom—”

His voice failed him. Time seemed to move so slow, as he watched Sephiroth withdrew his sword swiftly, as his mother crumpled onto the ground with a gasp, at the blood slowly seeping out from the hole in her abdomen.

Those green cat-like eyes captured him. Whatever Cloud had felt toward the soldier—whatever respect and admiration and awe—had gone out the door, and before him was the face of a madman that he couldn’t recognize.

Cloud moved on instinct. He grabbed the rifle slung over his shoulder and shot. He shot and shot and screamed at the top of his lungs as tears ran down his face, but Sephiroth deflected all. How was he so strong? How was he so fast? How was he invisible?

Sephiroth had taken one step at a time toward him and when Cloud was out of bullets and was scrambling in his pockets for more, he rushed in, a hit to Cloud’s head and a kick to his side that sent him flying through the air. The air was forced out of his lungs when Cloud hit the ground, leaving him gasping. Tears blurred his vision as he watched the silver-haired soldier smirking, before turning around and leaving the house.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But even the name sounded vile in his mouth.

His mother’s ragged breathing drew his attention.

“Mom?!” he called, his voice hoarse. His side hurt; his head pounded. Cloud struggled to his feet and ran over to his mother. Blood had pooled around her listless body. She was so pale, her breathing too shallow. Cloud crouched down beside her and pressed against the gaping wound.

“Cloud?” came her feeble voice. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Mom,” Cloud croaked. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Cloud,” she whispered again.

Cloud choked back a sob.“It’s going to be okay. We’ll get out of here, and we’ll find some help.”

“Cloud.” Her voice was only a wisp of a whisper. His mother cupped his cheek. The tears started streaming down again. Her touch was too cold. “You have to leave,” she murmured. Cloud was shaking his head. “You have to live, Cloud.”

 _No!_ Cloud kept shaking his head. “No, I’m not—” He grabbed his mother’s hand. “ _I’m not leaving you_.”

* * *

“ _Cloud!_ ”

Cloud jerked awake, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. There was no fire. There was no smoke. There were no screams. There was only the intact ceiling of their bedroom and Tifa’s concerned face.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asked, dabbing at his face and neck with a cool cloth. “You’re sweating like crazy.”

 _Nightmare_.

Yes, that was what it was. It was only a nightmare.

Cloud settled back onto his bed, the strength slowly leaving him.

 _A nightmare_ , he told himself. _Only a nightmare_.

But he still remembered it so vividly. The smell of iron and burning flesh. The heat from the flames on burning buildings. And then his mother’s body, pale and cold to the touch. She’d told him to go.

The tears came without his consent. Cloud shifted to his side, folding into himself.

He felt Tifa’s touch, gentle and warm, on his arm. It soothed his mind.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, okay?” she said, already scooting off the bed, her warmth leaving him.

“No!” He’d come on too strong that it startled her. “No—I’m sorry, don’t go, please. I’m all right. Just…stay…for a while.”

Tifa looked at him. He didn’t know how he looked like, but something in his face probably told her that the dream he had had was not entirely a dream. A soft look caressed her face as she settled back into bed beside him. Cloud reached for her hand and clasped it in his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she quietly asked, brushing a stray tear from his eyes and a lock of hair from his face.

Cloud sighed at the familiar, warm touch. But he shook his head. It was not something he was ready to talk about. “Just…let me stay like this…for a while.”

“Okay,” Tifa said, and she held his hand between hers and waited until the crazed, terror-stricken look on his eyes faded away.

**~ END ~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Hope you enjoyed it! It really hurt me writing this, but as I said, I really needed to get this out of my system. It's not my best written piece, however, and I'm not entirely sure how this turned out. I had other ideas on how I wanted to end the story, but in the end, I wanted to have Cloud being soothed. Please leave a comment or two if you like. I'd love to know what you think :) Thanks!


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